


Crush Me

by Ducks



Series: Ducks' Malec Week 2016 Collection [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Dave Matthews Band - Freeform, Fake Central Park Music Festival, M/M, Malec Week 2016, Malec Week Day 3: AU Settings Day, Other, all-human AU, hippies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:17:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ducks/pseuds/Ducks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe where Alec is a clothes horse and Magnus is a...clothes horse who bakes, they run into each other at a music festival and the day gains a whole lot of glitter...I mean love.</p><p>Also, Church is a b*tch, as usual.</p><p>For Malec Week 2016, Day Three: AU settings day - Aka Anything goes day, from neighbours to an all-boys schools, as mermaids or pirates. This day you can place Magnus and Alec in any alternative universe you desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush Me

"A what show, now?"

"Dead & Company. I mean... it's not the same as seeing the Dead in the old days, but considering, it's the best we can get. I heard the Dave Matthews Band is going to be at the festival too. Alec, you have to come."

Jace was cracking up so hard, he'd collapsed on Alec's bed. "Oh my God, Alec's gonna be a hippie. That's perfect!"

Alec glared at his adoptive brother. "One: I am not going. Two: Even if I _did_ go, I still would never be a... _hippie_." He said the word like most people would say 'pile of dog shit'. And meant it about the same. "You were barely even alive when the Grateful Dead was popular. The second time."

"Aaaaleeccc..." his little sister Izzy put on her best pout. "Me, Simon, and Rafe are going. It's a whole day long thing. Lots of art and music and food. You'll love it!"

"Need a fourth wheel, do you?" Alec focused on himself in the mirror, straightening out the collar of his new blue ombre Ralph Lauren button down. It was a nice mix of casual and fabulous, and he just hadn't been able to resist, especially since as a boutique owner, he got it wholesale. He would much rather think about his clothes than his sister's twisted polyamorous threesome. "You just want me to go so I can buy beer."

Izzy's mouth dropped open in the worst imitation of righteous indignation he had ever seen. "Alexander! Is that what you think of me?"

Alec gave her a bland look.

"Well, I mean... okay, that's part of it. Rafe won't be 21 for four months, and it would be nice to grab a couple of beers while we're outside in the heat all day. Plus, you need to loosen up, big bro. Some tye dye, some beers, some dancing..."

"Tye Dye," Alec's lip curled in distaste, "Will you buy me a pair of those hideous sandals all the pseudo-hippies wear, too? Possibly some cargo shorts?"

By this time, Jace was laughing so hard, he could barely breathe. "Alec! Tye dye! Sandals! Shorts! Hippies!"

"Shut up, Jace," Alec grumbled.

Izzy crawled to the end of the bed and got up on her knees, clapping her hands together in supplication. "Pleeeeeeease, Alec? Please please please please pleeeeease?"

"Fine! As long as I don't have to be in the store. When?"

"Yay!" Izzy got up and did a little happy dance. "It's Saturday, and you won't regret it!"

Alec grabbed her arms and held her still. Not an easy feat with his hyper little sister."I have one condition," he said, looking straight into her sweet, velvet brown eyes. "There will be _no_ weird threesome PDA while you're in my line of sight, alright?"

Izzy gasped, "Are you a self-hating homophobe, Alexander?"

"Isabelle, I couldn't care less if Simon and Raphael spent the whole day making out. It's _you_ whose tongue I don't want to see down anyone's... bleurgh, I can't even."

" _Fine_. No PDA. Not even hand-holding?"

She sounded so forlorn, he relented a bit. "Only when I'm not looking."

"Oh, HAHAHAHAHAHA! I almost wish I was going to this disaster!" Jace laughed.

"I can get you a ticket," Izzy teased, "Rafe's company is doing some of the construction work."

"No, no, that's fine," Jace held his hands up in surrender. "That's Alec's pleasure."

Alec sighed. This was going to be a mistake, he could feel it.

~~~~~~~~~

Magnus rather liked hippies. They were so colorful and carefree, and they carried and easily shared the most wonderful weed. Dancing with them was rather like dancing with faeries might be--if there were such a thing. So friendly and open, and while many of them might have an unpleasant smell, he appreciated the mixture of natural musk, marijuana, and patchouli that wafted around many of them like rich clouds.

They tended to be so...open-minded about sex, as well. Between that and their fine taste in mind-altering substances, they were almost his favorite kind of people. Much better than those annoying _hipsters_ , anyway. Those poseurs had a tendency to swarm his gourmet organic bakery like locusts, and were just as hard on the furniture. What was it about facial hair that fascinated them so much? Not just creative little moustaches and beards, but giant, wild-man bushes, as if they had never learned how to shave. Every time he saw a young man with a tidy haircut and ten years worth of beard, Magnus wanted to bodily drag them to the barber and hold them down until they were trimmed in a civilized manner.

It was truly a pet peeve of his.

Sadly, there were many of the pests at the music festival in Central Park. It seemed, these days, many more of them than his beloved neo-hippies. He blamed Jerry Garcia for dying, frankly. So many less delightful Deadheads after his sad passing.

Magnus shimmied a bit to the music as he wandered into the artisans' tent, taking a look over the lovely silver rings. He needed a few new baubles. It seemed ages since he'd rotated his jewelry collection. At least a few weeks. He didn't have a lot of Celtic designs, and some of the hand-made raven rings immediately caught his eye.

He was trying one on when he noticed the _feet_. For a moment, Magnus thought his eyes were deceiving him. They were large, men's feet--an excellent first sign--and they were encased in, by far, the most lovely sneakers he had ever lay eyes on. He was not an athletic shoe man, but how could he not appreciate a pair of pristine white sneakers with blue and red _glitter streaks_? He _adored_ glitter in all its forms.

Magnus drew his gaze upward from the shoes. Very, _very_ far up, over a spectacularly fit body wearing loose, pale beige linen trousers, a muted blue button-up shirt with the sleeves folded _just so_ to expose a rather delightful pair of biceps, over a mountain of shoulders, a jaw that could cut diamonds, and finally into the most stunning pair of enormous, black-lash fringed mossy green eyes he had ever seen in a very long life.

"I..." He choked, losing his ability to speak for the first time in recent memory. "Your...shoes."

The tall, hot drink of water looked down at his unique footwear, and brought up a smile so broad and bright, it blinded Magnus right through his Dior sunglasses.

"You like them? My brother says they're 'so gay, Liberace wouldn't have worn them'."

Magnus was half a heartbeat from asking if this delicious morsel _was_ gay, but he managed to bite his tongue. "There is no such thing," he managed, hoping he sounded far smoother than he felt. He offered a hand that absolutely was not allowed to be sweaty. "I'm Magnus Bane."

The black-haired sex god took it, his gigantic hand fully engulfing Magnus'. "Alec Lightwood."

"It's a pleasure to meet you...and your wonderful shoes!" Oh, God, could he be a bigger idiot?

"Thanks! They're Swarovski Filas. They cost me a car payment, but they're worth it, I think."

Magnus nodded like the increasingly more doddering moron he was becoming by the moment. He was suddenly 13 years old again, ready to come in his drawers at the attention of a handsome, well-dressed person of either gender.. Also embarrassed that he was wearing sandals--they were Ferragamos, but still. Something struck him after a moment.

"Wait. Lightwood. As in 'Lightwood Recherché'?"

"That's me."

"I _adore_ your shop! I must have spent my descendants' inheritance for a dozen generations there last spring! I had to have the entire collection."

Alec Lightwood laughed, and Magnus felt his heart shatter into a thousand bloody, pulsing pieces, every one of them instantly the property of this fantastic specimen of man. "That was you? Well, thanks for paying my mortgage for two months, then! Listen... can I buy you a beer? There's a tent of local microbrews I've been meaning to try before my underage sister and her friends drag me in there and try to get me to buy for them."

Magnus' smile started with a tickle in his sparkly-painted toes and washed over him, shortening his breath and making his skin tingle. "I would love that."

~~~~~~~~~

Alec didn't even taste the beer. He knew he drank too much of it, but the only thing that really registered in his consciousness was Magnus Bane. Alec had dated his share of men since he came out two years ago, but he had never met someone quite this fascinating.

Magnus managed this razor's edge balance of too much and just enough, flashy and masculine, a girly-girl and a man's man that made Alec weak in the knees. His shimmering golden skin, the big, amber eyes touched with just enough makeup to make their Asian shape exotic, glittering like a jewel. He had thick sable hair that defied gravity in a way Alec greatly admired, with metallic blue tips that coordinated with his silk slacks.

Magnus Bane wore not only the fine designer off-the-rack that Alec sold in his store, but what he would swear were carefully tailored one-of-a-kinds. Alec had complained to Izzy about sandals as being too hippie for his taste, but the spectacular strappy Ferragamos his new acquaintance wore might well have been the sexiest shoes he had ever seen.

"And the waiter said, 'I beg your pardon?' in truly terrible Castilian, and of course, my friend was Mexican, and there ensued a most unpleasant argument, during which a great deal of food ended up being thrown. I ruined my favorite jacket, and everyone involved was arrested--including me! I simply can't recommend Mexican jails, unless you have a great many pesos on your person."

Alec laughed. He didn't much care what Magnus was talking about, as long as he kept talking. He had such a graceful, elegant air about him, the way he used his hands to emphasize what he was saying, how his body moved like it was constantly buffeted by gentle breezes, and carried by soft waves. Like a dancer. Alec had no doubt the baker would dance like a dream.

Among the other things he imagined Magnus did like a dream.

"It sounds like you've done a lot of travelling," Alec said,  and gestured for two more of the honey brown ales they'd been drinking.

"I love to travel. Planes, cars, trains...as long as they take me somewhere interesting, I can't get enough. After I studied at Le Cordon Bleu, I had to see _everything_. Europe, Russia, China, Southeast Asia... What about you? What's your passion?"

"Nothing as exciting as international cuisine or travel," he said with a sigh. "Fashion, of course. I went to FIT for a few semesters, but I figured out that design wasn't really my thing. Just because I like shopping apparently doesn't translate into a talent for creating the stuff I like to buy."

"Well, what do you do in your spare time?"

"Honestly? Shop."

Magnus' laugh was like dark honey, sweet and rich, and hit Alec just like a sugar rush would.

"A perfectly honorable pursuit, in my opinion," he said.

Alec could never explain in words what overtook him at that moment, but without thinking, he reached over and took Magnus' free hand, which dangled between them. Their fingers folded together as if they had been doing it forever, and the handsome stranger gave him a shy, sweet smile.

"You know, I didn't even want to come today," Alec said. "My sister practically had to tie me up and drag me."

"You don't like music?"

Alec shrugged. "I love music. Just not... this kind."

"This kind? Oh, Alexander." It sounded so natural to hear his full first name slip from this man's kissable lips, it made him shiver. "This is a beautiful contemporary amalgam of some of the best American music: blues, jazz, bluegrass, plus world rhythm and experimental, and of course, rock-n-roll. There's nothing quite like it."

Looking out on the sea of variously wasted people dancing and spinning, jumping and otherwise writhing all over the lawn, Alec wasn't sure he got it.

"I'll just take your word for it."

"Oh, no. You have to experience it. I have VIP tickets, so we can actually get close to the bands. When Dave Matthews comes on, we'll go over. He has a spectacular brass section, violins, stunningly soulful backup singers. It's some of my favorite modern popular music."

"Not really modern anymore, though, is it?"

"It was the 1990's, not the 1690's! Goodness! How young are you, anyway?"

Alec froze. He hadn't thought to ask Magnus how old he was. They had just slipped so easily into this relaxed exchange, none of the usual things he might consider had mattered in the lake of pure like he was swimming in.

"I, um... old enough to know better."

Magnus arched a wry brow at him. "I see. So... let me guess. 22, 23?"

"24."

"Hm. Well, that's not so bad."

"And you?"

"Older."

"Come on, don't be coy," Alec squeezed Magnus' hand. "Honestly,  you could be 400 years old, and I'd just say you look fantastic for your age."

Magnus preened. "Why, thank you. In that case... I'm 34."

"A decade's nothing at our age. Right?"

"Of course! Now, if you were 16, and I was 26..."

"You'd be a pervert."

"Precisely. Oh! Dave is starting. Will you join me?" Magnus hopped off the barstool he'd occupied, still holding Alec's hand.

Alec paused for a moment, uncertain. But looking into those liquid gold eyes, the shimmering cinnamon skin...those lips...

"Yes. Of course. I'd love to."

~~~~~~~~~

It was one of those fairy tale nights. The ones dreamed of, but almost never came. The two men talked--as much as they could with the loud music--and laughed, listened, and enjoyed. Magnus kept trying to get Alec to dance, but the younger man insisted it wasn't his thing. Magnus didn't seem to mind--he danced by himself, or with what seemed like a throng of admirers, male and female, that clustered around them, like moths no doubt attracted by Magnus' light.

Mostly, Alec stood with his arms crossed, nodding his head to the beat as much as he was able, trying not to look conspicuous.

"Oh, this is my song!" Magnus cried out, and a heavy base beat filled the air, followed by crying trumpets and singing strings, accompanied by the band's guitars and drums.

It _was_ a lot like Jazz, Alec thought, and then he didn't think much at all as he was mesmerized watching Magnus move. He rode the rhythm like silk curtains on a breeze, like foam floating lightly on gentle waves. Alec frankly didn't care about the band--although they were better than he expected--or the music, or the throngs of sweaty people all around. The only thing occupying his consciousness was Magnus.

When the lights came up and the show was over, Magnus' dusky skin was shining with a fine, sparkling glow, and for the first time, Alec noticed that he was wearing some kind of glitter.Never before in his life had he found glitter sexy. In fact, he had thrown out all of Izzy's glitter makeup last year when he kept finding it in his bed, his hair-- _all_ his hair--his very expensive shoes, and sometimes even his food.

Magnus could have smeared glitter all over Alec any time.

"That was fun!" Magnus said with a laugh, rubbing a hand across his forehead, then patting his hair, finding it still in place. "I have to get more of this gel. It's magic, I swear."

Alec couldn't quite seem to move. He just stood there like a dolt, staring at this magnificent... person...positively shining in all his joie de vivre glory.

His new friend claimed Alec's upper arms--probably with more caressing than was strictly necessary--and gave him a shake. "Are you all right, Alexander? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"I...no, I don't think so." He might have. He was so tingly all over, he couldn't be certain.

"I take it you live in the Flatiron..." Magnus ventured, probably based--and rightly so--on the location of Alec's shop.

"Yeah," Alec shook himself out of his weird reverie. Something important was happening. Their golden day was over, and what happened next would determine where they went from here. "You?"

"Brooklyn."

Alec blessed his excellent memory as he scanned the subway schedules in his head. They could take the B together, transfer to the N, and then Magnus could catch the F at 5th Avenue, straight home.

"Alec?"

"Mm. Sorry, I was thinking about the subway."

Magnus grinned. "I already called an Uber." He pulled Alec down so they were eye-to-eye. "We can make out better that way," he said, and kissed him.

~~~~~~~~~

They did indeed make out in the Uber--a lovely little hybrid compact with just enough room for Magnus to get his hands all over Alec, thoroughly wrinkling his dashing outfit. But Alec didn't seem to mind. In fact, he did his level best to absolutely wreck Magnus' hair, and lick all the glitter from his body.

It was extremely hot. Alec did not get out in the Flatiron District.

When they arrived at his building, Magnus gathered up the shimmering organic silk tye dye he'd purchased, opened the door, and paused. "Would you...like to come up for a drink?"

It was a bold move, he knew. Alec may very well not be the fancy free kind of fellow that would follow where this evening promised to lead. Not that he would begrudge the younger man, and it certainly wouldn't stop Magnus from seeing him again if that was in the cards.

The smile on Alec's face was...stunning. Magnus had seen hints of it through the day, Alec was friendly and open, not at all shy, and seemed to be a happy person all around. But this expression...this was something else. For the first time, Magnus felt he was seeing into the true face of Alexander Lightwood.

"A drink would be great."

Magnus had had men in his loft before, of course. He did not do well alone. But this felt different. He was shaking from head to chilly toes like this was the first man he'd invited anywhere. He took the stairs two or three at a time, as if he could outrun his nerves.

Of course, Alec, with his long legs, didn't even have to jog to keep up. Magnus unlocked the steel sliding door, and pushed it open, gesturing for Alec to enter before him. He didn't often think about his decorating style--beyond that he liked it--but now he looked a bit more as someone seeing it for the first time might. Especially someone with taste, like Alec.

It wasn't flashy...or not very flashy, anyway. Some nice antiques, a few expensive rugs, art, tchotchkes, and knickknacks from everywhere he'd traveled and the galleries he frequented. Alec looked around, clearly impressed.

"Nice," he said, "I like it."

Magnus beamed with pride. "Thank you. I'm afraid it's a bit eclectic, but... I like it to reflect me, and I'm a bit eclectic." He moved toward the bar. "What can I get you?"

A loud meow interrupted the conversation, and Magnus looked back to find one of his cats winding himself around Alec's long legs, and the other perched on a nearby table, hissing like the brat that he was.

"Um..." Alec said.

"The floozy around your legs is Chairman Meow." He shot a dark scowl at the Persian on the table. "That Grumpy Cat wannabe is _Church._ " He said it with the same disdain he knew the cat felt for him, and in response, Church growled.

Alec said he'd like a martini--dirty, which made Magnus smirk. He made one, and poured himself a nice, big scotch. Which he promptly drank, and poured another before he brought the martini to his guest.

"Please, sit," he invited, gesturing to his new crushed-velvet Queen Anne sofa. Alec sat and accepted the drink, while Magnus sat down beside him. "To us."

His new...whatever...clinked their glasses together. The smile he wore now was less brilliant than the one in the car, but no less beautiful.

"I had a terrific time today," Alec said after they drank. "Because of you."

Magnus sighed and leaned in to Alec's warm strength. "Me too. I have to say, a music festival was the last place I thought I'd meet someone so..." He paused.

"So...?"

Amazing, he wanted to say. Perfect, fantastic, magnificent, sexy, delectable, mesmerizing, brilliant...

"Special," he finished softly.

"Yeah." Alec took Magnus' drink, and set both of them on coasters on the coffee table. Then he took Magnus' face tenderly in his hands, and for what felt like hours, just scoured his features with those expresive hazel eyes. Just when Magnus didn't think he could take that searing scrutiny anymore, Alec finally brought him in for a kiss.

It was one of those kisses that enveloped both parties, involved lips and tongues, exploration of mouths, wandering hands, moans and sighs. Magnus was so lost in the feeling, the taste, the warm scent of Alexander, he wasn't sure when they lost so many of their clothes. He only knew that he could feel the soft hair on Alec's chest tickling his, the taller man's big hands sliding down his sides to his belt.

Then that was gone too, plus his slacks and shorts besides. His skin was on fire, every inch of him hard and wanting, and he couldn't remember ever needing anything so desperately as the man in his arms, murmuring his name.

It was like being drunk--much drunker than he had been at the fair earlier. Delightfully, wonderfully drunk. He gently pushed Alec up, and wordlessly urged him to stand. When he did, Magnus took the opportunity to divest Alec of the rest of his elegant clothing, and take his own turn at experiencing the athletic body before him. At another time, he must remember to ask Alec what he did for exercise, because it had extremely pleasant results.

Alec's skin was smooth and pale, peppered with fine, dark hair, and marked here and there with artistic tattoos. He recognized some: Latin for Memory, the Chinese symbol for calm. A phoenix with wings outstretched, a roaring lion of courage on one firm hip. Others were abstract, vines and traces of tribal designs. He looked like a piece of fine art...painted on a piece of fine art.

Magnus took Alec's hands and drew himself up, taking another long, luxurious kiss.

"Alexander..." he whispered, not opening his eyes. Alec caressed his face, ran a fingertip around his hairline, around the shell of his ear.

"Yes, Magnus?"

"Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to my bedroom? Oop!"

Alec scooped Magnus up in his arms and carried him off toward the big four-poster.

"Yeah, I think I would," he laughed.

Magnus sighed and let himself fall.

**Author's Note:**

> recherché - French for rare, exotic, or obscure
> 
> The song Magnus loves so much is "Crush" by the Dave Matthews Band--one of my all-time favorite songs. Also the inspiration for title of the story, obviously.


End file.
